


Meantime

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Sex Toys, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus is a very irritating client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meantime

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: This isn't properly British.

Severus Snape is easily his strangest client.

Severus sends him an owl like any other, but Remus doesn’t demand a meeting in a public coffee shop first—he knows what Severus is like, knows what vibe he’d get, and he’s not worried. He’s usually a bit excited, actually. Work is work, and sometimes it’s fun and others it’s dreadful, but showing up on Severus’ doorstep is something of a boyhood fantasy wrapped in dirty promises. 

When he had a crush on Severus in school, of course, he imagined it differently: sneaking off into the foot of the forest, pressed up against a tree, or tugging each down dark corridors to shed scarves and cloaks. Sometimes he daydreamed of simple conversations, intellectual pursuits of the sort James and Sirius never want to talk about, others light kissing, _touching_ , and then wild, frantic sex still in their uniforms. The reality’s quite different.

There’s never been a single kiss. There’s been very little touching—just the brushing of fingers as Severus passes him toys. Remus sheds his clothes in the sitting room and settles into one of Severus’ armchairs, naked as the day he was born. He used to be self conscious of his scars and wondered if he _he could really do this_ —he’s young, he has other prospects, still relatively fresh out of Hogwarts, and surely he could find _some_ job that would abide his monthly problem—but now he’s sucked it up, shed that excuse, settled in, and doesn’t shrink in to cover himself. 

He lifts up on his knees and prepares his hole with the oil Severus gives him, warm and slick. The fire’s lit, vaguely _romantic_ , a little homely but maybe just for dramatic effect: it makes the whole room darker around the edges than proper lighting would. Remus spreads his thighs and makes a show of fingering himself, until he’s wide enough to press the tip of the rubber cock to his entrance. Then he eases himself down, looking away through half-lidded eyes, and pretends he isn’t _watching Severus_ , who plays the same game across the room. 

Severus watches from the chair of his desk, but only idly. He doesn’t really _stare_ , even though Remus is sure he must want to. There’s no other reason he could pay for this other than to watch. He doesn’t _touch_. He’s maddening. He doesn’t say a word as Remus impales himself on the thick instrument, going slow and steady.

Then it’s in, and Remus lets out his held breath. He sits down properly, the full brunt of it thrust inside him, his knees bent and feet digging back into the cushions. His own cock hangs untouched between his legs, maybe a little hard, like Severus somehow makes him. He’d be a lot harder if Severus acted like normal clients. But Severus has never done anything normal, and he turns away as he flicks his wand. 

The toy snaps to life. Remus makes a choked noise of surprise but quickly reins it in, clenching on accident and gasping again. The toy slams up inside him, then loses momentum and slips back, vibrating wildly along; if it were a Muggle toy, this would be one of the higher settings. Severus doesn’t use Muggle things. Severus doesn’t even look at him. Severus is now facing his desk, back to Remus, and shuffles a few pages of parchment before pulling his quill out for use. 

So Remus sits there, taking the lewd fucking of a disembodied cock, for no apparent reason. It’s fitting, somehow. The first time Remus got Severus’ owl, he was half in shock, couldn’t imagine Severus doing this, and Severus doesn’t really do _anything_ , just goes on with his life with Remus debauched in the background.

Maybe it’s punishment. It feels like that, on the thrusts that don’t catch his prostate. Some do, and those make him tremble, make his cock twitch, make it not so bad, but around it it’s still _annoying_. Remus doesn’t care now: he stares, unabashedly, at the black fabric stretched taut over Severus’ slender shoulders, and the long, slick hair that hides his face. Remus finds himself glaring, when he’s not reacting to the toy’s thrusts. The vibrations ricochet through him. It’s rhythmic with no variation, but it’s still poignant. Enough to make Remus _feel_. His cock starts to harden, half from the stimulation and half from his own raunchy thoughts about tackling Severus right now, payment be damned, and getting a proper cock up his ass. He doesn’t even know what Severus’ dick looks like, but he’s thought about it enough. Sirius and James would disown him for that. But maybe it’s their fault this happens to him, maybe Severus is torturing Remus because he can’t get to the two worse cases. Though Remus was never an angel. He wasn’t _that_ cruel to Severus. And if he was, he’d appreciate a little revenge sex in retaliation. 

Instead, he sits in the armchair with an animated shaft roughly fucking him, while his host completely ignores him. Remus can hear the steady scrawl of Severus’ quill—it doesn’t seem the slightest bit distracted. 

So Remus, naughty thing that he is, tries to change that. He takes the next thrust with a sudden _moan_ , deep and as sensual as he can, the sort of thing Sirius used to overhear at night and joke could make Remus real money. Severus’ shoulders might square a little bit, or maybe its Remus’ imagination. He has a sharp intake of breath on the next one, then gasps, chest arching forward, head tossing back. He’s ready to run his hands over his body, but Severus is still facing away. 

And Severus doesn’t look over, even when Remus exaggerates his moans with each slam inside him. Now aroused on top of frustrated, Remus finally gives in to purr, “ _Severus_...” 

Severus instantly snaps, “I don’t pay you to talk.” He doesn’t even glance back to say it. It shuts Remus’ mouth and puts the fire behind his eyes. Sometimes he understands why Sirius and James hate Severus so much.

He gets the picture, though, that he won’t be touched this appointment. He figures he may as well get off, then. 

So he drops his hand to his cock, wrapping his dry fingers around his hard shaft, only for Severus to bluntly say, “Don’t.” It’s like he has eyes in the back of his head. Remus, for some reason, obeys. 

He wonders if this aggravation is even worth the money. He’s young, relatively attractive, can deal with both Muggle and wizarding clients, and Severus’ appointments are nothing fancy or expensive. 

Yet Remus, for whatever reason, _wants_ them, and after another few minutes of being thoroughly used for no one’s benefit, he clambers off the couch. 

The toy stays wedged inside him, pounding away as he walks awkwardly across the sitting room. Severus, _finally_ looks over his shoulder, just to snarl, “Sit back down—”

Remus cuts him off, reaching the desk and leaning down to hiss, “You bought a service, not a man.” Severus scowls, but any bitterness he has couldn’t possibly top Remus’. Remus grips the back of Severus’ chair, even though he wants to grab _Severus_ , but he never touches clients without permission. Or, in the case of shy ones, at least the implication of it. He catches Severus’ eye and says, as firmly as he can with his body still wracked from the vibrator, “Now, either you can pay me half the money for half the time I spent playing your stupid game, or you can come over to the sofa right now, replace this toy in my ass, and get an extra hour free.” He hadn’t meant to throw in that last part, but as he looks at Severus’ sullen face, he’s sure _pride_ is a huge part of this, and Remus doesn’t _care_ : he just wants to stop the dance and feel Severus on top of him.

He still half expects Severus to throw him out. But Severus’ quill has stopped moving, and he turns back to his desk only to tidy up his space, before looking back to mutter, “I thought you’d never ask.” He has the audacity to say it like Remus was the one simply not catching on. 

But Remus is more than practiced at handling difficult men, and he somehow resists rolling his eyes at the stubborn slyness of Slytherins. He steps back from the desk to give Severus room to stand. As soon as Severus is on his feet, Remus wraps his hand around Severus’—now it’s _on_ —the wand now back, and a quick flick and whispered word puts the toy out of motion. It gives Remus the relief he needs to initiate their first kiss, which Severus _finally_ leans into.


End file.
